The Healing Process
by dalekchung
Summary: Alex never got over his time with MI6. Now suffering with severe PTSD, he's trying to fix himself - to no avail. As Alex learns, help comes in all different forms. One-shot for the Fourth of July (Independence Day).


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider.**

The Healing Process

 _BOOM._

Alex was grateful that it was dark in the park. He was situated next to Sabina on a blanket, staring up at the sky.

It was the Fourth of July – Independence Day for America. Sabina had dragged him out, adamant to celebrate America's birthday by watching the fireworks.

 _BOOM._

Alex drew his knees to his chest, trembling at the noise. It brought back bad memories. Memories that he just wanted to get rid of.

 _BOOM._

The shudder of the gun in his hands. The explosion that had killed his most beloved friend.

 _BOOM._

Jack.

Alex covered his ears, thankful for the darkness. He closed his eyes, trying to think about anything but the booming fireworks above him.

No one else was struggling with the noise. Even with his hands over his ears, he could hear the crowd's appreciative " _oooh"_ s and _"ahh"_ s.

After another ten minutes of shaking, lip biting, and flashbacks, the fireworks fizzled out. He liked the silence that it brought.

"Hey," Alex could see Sabina's bright grin. He thanked her mentally for not mentioning his breakdown, "I'm going to get ice cream. What flavor do you want?"

Alex slowly unwound himself from the little ball he had been in, "Just chocolate," he cursed himself, hearing his hoarse voice.

Sabina nodded and turned away, immediately spotting one of her school friends in the throng of people.

Once Sabina had left his sight, Alex curled up into a ball again, resting his chin on his knees. He knew he must have looked strange to those around him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was the booming fireworks, eerily similar to the crack of a gun or an exploding bomb.

"All right there, son?"

Alex jerked to his feet at the sound of the voice, taken by surprise. He relaxed once he saw who had spoken: an elderly man with white tufts of hair, supported by a cane.

"Yeah," Alex's fingers dug into his sides, "I'm fine, sir."

The old man smiled sadly, pointing to the sky, "Loud things, aren't they? Reminds me o' the time I served. Sound like guns, dun they?"

Alex didn't respond.

"C'mon younglin'," the man was smiling, and Alex noticed his missing teeth, "I know a soldier when I see one, but 'chu seem kinda young. Innit funny, son? Where 'chu serve?"

Alex paused for a moment, glancing at the earnest old man by his side. He didn't want to talk to the man, but it seemed like he should. It couldn't hurt to have a small conversation, could it?

"All over the place, sir," he said, resigned.

"Ah," the old man smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling at the edges, "you're one o' _them,_ I see."

Alex didn't know if the man was referring to the same "them" that he was thinking of.

"'Chu never recover, ya know? 'S been forty years for me – still jump when I 'ear one," the man nodded to himself, "And the pain hasn't faded. I feel it right _here,"_ he pointed to his chest, "when I 'ear it."

Alex knew the man was referring to his heart, his emotions, when he had pointed to his chest, "May I ask what happened, sir?"

The old man's smile dropped from his face, but he nodded, "Suppose 'chu need a bit o' empathy, dun'cha?" he nodded again, "I was a captain in the army, in charge o' fifteen fine soldiers."

Alex could see the wistfulness in the man's eyes as he spoke, his voice gruff.

"We were out in Iraq when we were ambushed. It was a spectacle – grenades flyin' everywhere. Guns firin' at who knows what. And I was a coward that day. All I wanted to do was to get home alive for my wife," the man looked away from Alex, fixing his eyes to the sky, "All fifteen o' them – dead. Maybe not all fifteen woulda died if I'd stepped in, ya know? Worst thing 's that when I came back, they called me a hero. 'Cause I wasn't. I was only a selfish, little coward.

"Main point o' this, son, 's that 'chu won't forget about who 'chu lost. Not ever, and that's okay," the man looked back at Alex, "But 'chu gotta move on in life: meet a girl, get married, have kiddos. 'Chu just gotta accept what happened and accept your mistakes 'cause 'chu can't go back and change 'em."

Alex stayed silent as he talked.

"Looks like your girl is waitin'," the man looked past Alex, "Good luck, soldier."

Alex opened his mouth, turning to catch a glimpse of Sabina, "But I don't think I can-" he turned around to face the man again, but found he was alone.

"Hey Alex!" Sabina was holding the ice cream cones, "Who were you talking to?"

Alex cast a look at the space where the man used to be before turning back to Sabina and smiling, "Just myself, Sab. Should we get home?"

Sabina nodded, handing a cone to Alex, "So I was thinking…"

Alex listened half-heartedly, laughing in all the appropriate places. He could still hear the words of the old man telling him to accept what had happened.

For the first time in months, he felt his burden lighten.

"You've got that look on your face," Sabina accused, hiding a grin.

"What look?" Alex asked innocently, smiling too.

She poked his cheek with a finger, "Your thinking face – I don't like it."

Alex laughed, shaking his head a bit, "No, it's not what you're thinking."

Sabina raised a playful eyebrow.

Alex shrugged, "Just… We should come back next year. See the fireworks again."

The old man was right. He'd never fully recover from his past, but all his emotions? They were part of the healing process.

* * *

 **A/N: So. That was shorter than I thought it would be... I'm not sure if I actually like what I wrote, but I _had_ to get something up for the Fourth of July!**

 **Apologies if the old man's words were kind of confusing... I was trying to make him all gruff and old-y-ish.**

 **Don't forget to review on the way out!**

 **-A xx**


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